


Sometimes I Forget

by violetholdsme



Series: Sunflower Stories 🌻 [2]
Category: ONF (Band), Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Depression, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, au spinoff, hyojin and wyatt are there if you squint, seungjoon is a teacher, they have a kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetholdsme/pseuds/violetholdsme
Summary: “It’s even honorable, to justbe, especially in the times when that’s the best we can do.”
Relationships: Lee Hwitaek | Hui/Lee Seungjoon | J-US, mentioned Kim Hyojin/Shim Jaeyoung | Wyatt
Series: Sunflower Stories 🌻 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909450
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Sometimes I Forget

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a thing i wrote to release my own stress and Feelings ... it's set in the universe of my au, [ "sunflowers (and other pretty things)" ](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme/status/1274617536202412032?s=21) but it can pretty much stand alone too. enjoy~

There was an earthquake last night. At least, that’s what Hwitaek told him. Seungjoon had woken up at around 5 in the morning, and pegged that shaking down to his own body; he was much too used to it anyway. It wasn’t so much that he had nightmares, nor any sort of troubling dreams. It was just the _waking up_ that plagued him; it always was. Waking up to his own hands shaking and his chest constricting wasn’t frightening because of the unnatural way that it felt, but because that feeling was _familiar,_ and Seungjoon was nearly numb to the aftershocks.

He had taken almost the entirety of the last week off, at Hwitaek’s insistence. The Thursday in the middle of Seungjoon’s three-day leave was Hwitaek’s birthday, which they were delighted to spend alone together in their home until they had to pick their son up from school at around 4 in the afternoon. Seungjoon still couldn’t fully comprehend the thought of having missed three days of work; it was always the kind of thing that he just thought didn’t actually happen in the real world, and he wondered distantly if he had used up all the paid leaves he had for the entire _year_. Jaeyoung was happy to substitute for his classes, but Seungjoon knew he would have a hellstorm coming for him the moment he had to go back to work. The thought was shoved down, and Seungjoon busied himself with staring at the grey walls of their bedroom.

It was Saturday now, the fourth day of its kind in which Seungjoon simply… existed. Seungjoon decided that three-day-in-a-row work leaves were definitely _not_ the sort of thing that happened in the real world, but he had been checked out of the real world for much longer, anyway. It started off small, simple 一 just a day when he realized he was more tired than he was used to, and then slowly, but surely, the world turned bleak. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before, and it simply hit with the same empty fervor as a labored sigh, a short flickering of _oh, it’s this again._ And Seungjoon pretended it was fine, until he no longer could.

Hwitaek was quick to notice. It wasn’t just the usual waking up with tremors in his hands or looking like a zombie while grading papers 一 Hwitaek noticed everything. Seungjoon knew these _things_ about himself; he was aware of the way he had to force himself to smile sometimes, the way he stared off into the distance at nothing, the way he held onto hot mugs from the microwave much too long because the pain in his hands could barely equate to the numbness in his mind. Hwitaek told him that he needed to rest. The older man saw the little nuances in Seungjoon’s actions that stopped him from being shocked when the younger sat up in bed at night and cried for no apparent reason. It was the worst, not knowing. In the years that Seungjoon had dealt with this, there was never an answer. 

_You know I’m not unhappy because of_ you _, right?_

Seungjoon thinks he asked the question way too often. Hwitaek would always smile softly, tell him _I know._ Seugjoon felt guilty about it sometimes, like the emptiness he felt was spun on a web of lies even though he knew that that wasn’t the case. Hwitaek knew it too. Hell, their ten year old son, Myunggi, knew it 一 as much as he could comprehend, anyway. Sometimes Seungjoon would wake up in the morning and think that he had an amazing family, that there was no reason for him to ever dread a day ahead of him. He wondered why he did it to himself, why his mind had to punish him and drag him into all the darkest places where his eyes would swirl and yet tears could never form. Sometimes he thinks he just needs a pause button. But the world stubbornly told him _no,_ and he had learned to tell it to himself, too.

Hwitaek always told him it was alright. He didn’t look at Seungjoon any differently when he told him about the troubles in his mind, or that he’d been dealing with them since he was 11. When Seungjoon moved in with Hwitaek, and Hyojin moved in with Jaeyoung, Hwitaek wasn’t scared when Hyojin told him that Seungjoon sometimes used to go into his room at 3 in the morning to cry. The older man always took it in stride, giving out safe and reassuring glances that felt like room to breathe. It wasn’t completely freeing, but it was better than drowning or gasping for air. Hwitaek held him like he mattered, and he stopped whenever Seungjoon let him know it wasn’t what he needed. 

Seungjoon was in a bathtub now, soaked in lukewarm water up to his stomach. Hwitaek had run him a bath and told him to just relax, and he had put in an obscene amount of bath salts and essential oils judging by the strong scent of the bathwater, but Seungjoon didn’t mind. It wasn’t as hot as he would’ve liked it to be, but hot water was scarce in their apartment and Seungjoon was more than content with all the loving gestures Hwitaek had tried to do for him over the worst parts of the past week. Seungjoon made an apple pie that tasted, frankly, like shit, and Hwitaek told him he loved it. Hwitaek told him he was proud of him every time Seungjoon told him he got out of bed, even if it was at 2 in the afternoon, with the customary follow-up of _make sure you’ve eaten!_ and some sort of smiley face or weird emoticon. And Seungjoon didn’t think a lukewarm bath with a few candles and some eucalyptus scented bath products would relax him, but it did. Hwitaek was just _kind_ ; it was always the most mundane things that showed he cared. It was the subtle but lasting reminders that despite what the world told him, Seungjoon was allowed to be a little bit kinder to himself, too. Because existing was enough. Hwitaek told him “it’s even honorable, to just _be_ , especially in the times when that’s the best we can do _._ ”

*****

When Seungjoon stepped out of the bath and back into their bedroom, Hwitaek immediately got up from the bed and motioned him over.

“Sit, Joonie.”

Seungjoon did as he was told. The cool air felt nice against his skin, still hot from the not-so-hot bath water. He was wrapped in a white bathrobe that Hwitaek had hung by the door while he prepared the bath, a towel around his neck to dry his blonde curls. Hwitaek was fishing some clothes out of the drawers as Seungjoon sat on the bed, watching him move swiftly but gently, his tongue sticking out in focus. Seungjoon let a smile tug on his lips. This time, it was more than real.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Tired,” Seungjoon replied without thinking. “But better. Fine.”

Hwitaek walked back over to him, immediately sweeping some hair away from his face and setting down the clothes he had fished out from their drawers. “That’s good. You think you can go back to work on Monday?”

Seungjoon shrugged. “I don’t think so.” He contemplated for a bit, thinking of his students, and then about everything he’d have to help them catch up on 一 everything he _himself_ had to catch up on. “But I have to.”

“One step at a time, my love,” Hwitaek replied, continuing his rhythmic motions in Seungjoon’s hair. “One step at a time.”

Seungjoon hummed when Hwitaek said this, appreciating the patience. It was familiar and grounding, and it was the same when the older man pushed the robe off his shoulders and removed it completely. Seungjoon felt a tad exposed, but Hwitaek simply kissed him softly on the lips and then his eyes turned to crescents along with his smile. Hwitaek just never _expected_ anything from him; he looked at Seungjoon with love and contentment and it was no different even now that he had his clothes off or was tired out of his mind for no goddamn reason. The storm in his head was nowhere near gone but he had a place to weather it out, and Seungjoon only felt safer when Hwitaek pulled a shirt over his head, telling him to stand up to put on the rest of his clothes. Seungjoon felt the care in every choice and effort that Hwitaek had made, he felt it in the sweep of fabric against his skin that told him Hwitaek had deliberately fished out a shirt that was a bit loose and sweatpants and underwear that were a bit softer. There was just something about the lazy afternoons, the almost-evenings when Seungjoon felt a rush a hundred times as strong when Hwitaek slid clothes onto his body as opposed to when he would take them off. His hands found their way into Hwitaek’s hair before a kiss deeper than the last one, and he let himself smile at the warmth he found in return.

“Why do you stay with me? Isn’t this tiring?”

“It’s okay,” Hwitaek said. “You’re okay.”

“But I’m not.”

“And that’s okay.”

Seungjoon chuckled weakly. Of course Hwitaek would say that.

“Doesn’t it frustrate you that I’m like this?”

“You don’t need to be happy all the time for me to love you.”

“I should be happy _because_ you love me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Hwitaek sighed, pulling Seungjoon’s head into his chest. “Love doesn’t have to make you happy. It’s just a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“That you deserve to be.” Hwitaek smiled. 

Seungjoon smiled back and laid down on the bed, rolling over so Hwitaek could take the space beside him. They lay facing each other, Seungjoon’s hair still damp and cool against the pillow as he took in the sight of the man beside him, flushing a light pink with every second that Seungjoon’s gaze lingered.

Hwitaek took an expensive-looking glass container from the nightstand, which Seungjoon assumed was one of the lotions that had been gifted to him by his friends. They weren’t the type for those luxuries, usually. Hwitaek pumped a small amount on his palm, grabbing hold of Seungjoon’s hands and massaging it in. The scent of vanilla filled the air along with some other fruity aroma, and it relaxed Seungjoon’s senses like the scent of home. He knew that somewhere along the way he would come across the scent again and be reminded of the contentment he felt in that very moment, Hwitaek soothing his mind and hands in one fell swoop.

“Do you think this ever gets better?”

“I don’t know, Seungjoonie. I don’t know what it feels like.”

“Hmm.” Seungjoon pursed his lips. “I guess it gets easier to cope. But every time always feels as shitty as the last.”

Hwitaek used the grip on Seungjoon’s hand to pull him closer, and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be here either way. You know that, right?”

“Keep reminding me.” Seungjoon sighed guiltily at that, aware of all the lies he makes himself believe about loneliness. ”’Cause sometimes I forget.”

“And that’s okay.” Hwitaek replied. “I know I can’t fight the battle with you. But whenever you need to come home, just let me love you, and I’ll do the rest.”

Seungjoon smiled, still a bit weak, still undoubtedly sad, but it was enough. He reminded himself that it was more than enough.

Perhaps the feeling would linger much longer than he would like, and it would always come back at the least opportune times. It was a messy predicament to be in, and some times even more than others. But there were certain moments in the in-betweens that reminded him of the reasons to hold on that he would so often forget, in soft clothes and quiet candlelight as the sunsets turned into moonlight. Hwitaek never magically made anything better; Seungjoon knew that. Hwitaek simply reminded him that in the midst of a war with his mind, there would always be refuge when he needed it. It was good to be reminded, because sometimes he would forget. Home was always a place far away from a world so cruel and unkind. Seungjoon knew he had found it while his hand was in Hwitaek’s, shaking only slightly as they both drifted off, so close to each other and far, far away from the rest of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twt @violetholdsme


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